Time and lack of relevance have rendered it fairly easy to forget just how popular Journey was during its heyday – that the band’s image loomed so large Atari actually built an entire video game around it … that its sound grew so recognizable Budweiser actually enlisted several members to perform commercial jingles … that its songs grew so ubiquitous you can still find a copy of the band’s Greatest Hits lying just beneath the driver’s side of every housewife’s minivan. For good or ill, Journey somehow manages to endure, very often as if driven by its own means of combustion.

Enter Arnel Pineda: a pint-sized migrant from The Philippines who joined the band back in 2007, personally recruited by Neal Schon. Pineda was not only a revelation, he was also the primary reason Journey had any worthwhile reason to look forward. Arnel’s unique ability to channel Steve Perry without becoming Steve Perry was – and is – pretty goddamned remarkable. But what’s more is his ability to draw power from his boyhood idols, all the while leading them in a whole new (multi-million-dollar) direction.

In terms of continuity, Don’t Stop Believin’ does have a tendency to dawdle, specifically when engaged in Arnel’s backstory. But the feeling sure is there. And, assuming we can all agree that David Chase reinvigorated that whole franchise way back in June of 2007, we can also probably agree that Arnel Pineda was – and is – the primary lynchpin keeping all those other pieces together. His story is an inspiration, to be sure. And it makes for pretty fascinating viewing, regardless of whether you’re a music fan, a movie buff, or just some pint-sized migrant from the cut.

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“Here is the natural instinct, and here is the control. You need to combine the two in harmony. If you should have one to the extreme, and then the other to the extreme, then you become all of a sudden a mechanical man; no longer a human being. And so [the goal] is to become a successful combination of both. Therefore, it is not pure and natural, or even pure and unnatural. The ideal is unnatural naturalness … or natural unnaturalness. Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless; like water. You put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow, or it can crash. But running water never grows stale. So you just gotta keep on flowin’.”

IFB’s Quotations Page, General Index

One night – and this happened way back when I was in grade school – I came home to find every member of my family had flown the coop. I knew this because I had run through every room in the house, illuminating an expensive string of ceiling lights in the process. I had never really been at home alone before, and I very quickly realized just how much I did not like it. When you’re a kid, you somehow assume all of the bad things have been locked inside with you. And – as such – paranoia slowly takes its toll.

That particular night I went outside and stood alone on the front driveway. It was dark out, and I had no idea which circuit breaker lit the lamppost. And so instead I set to jumping … jump-jump-thumping up and down, as if to keep the constant fear at bay. I did this because I was young, and alone, and I’d never been young and alone before. I remember thinking it was just about the worst thing any punk kid could be made to endure – that sudden mix of loss and abandonment, shot through with shades of hopelessness. And so instead I just kept right on jumping … jump-jump-thumping up and down, as if to keep the gut-sick fear at bay.

And, that, my friends, is what it feels like to watch the movie, Future Weather – a stark, well-crafted metaphor about the ecological dangers of leaving one’s own house unattended, infused with an ongoing plea for environmental accountability at every level.

(Future Weather arrives in limited release in New York City this Friday, March 1st, with a national rollout via Video-on-Demand on the same day.)

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“This is a stupid town. And it’s a stupid town in the sense that it is maybe one of the largest cities in the world, and it’s lazy. It’s polite. It is so sissy in its mentality; so go-along with everything that goes along. It’s corporate-owned; it’s a town owned by Hollywood. And it’s about time it grew up. It’s about time it took art and said, ‘C’mon, baby! Show me something!’ And we’re showing them something. And there are not many people showing anything. There are not many people who’ll go out there and put themselves on the line in this world today because everyone’s frightened … I’m sick. I’m sick that this is such a little sissy town that people will only go to see something that is going to be successful; that a corporation says is great. We have something so much better … I’m sick because they are just such a bunch of sissies in this world that they won’t go out and see something that is wonderful. And they’ll hear that it’s wonderful, and other people will tell them that it’s wonderful. But ‘Is it going to be a success?’ I don’t care if it’s going to be a success. I want those suckers to come in there, and to see this movie, because they’ll see what they always wanted to be. And that is to be theatrical; to be wonderful; to be liked; to be friends; to have something in their life that is warmer, and to regard someone that has more guts than you do, and to be inspired by people. And I’m not ashamed of it. I really hate this nonsense. ‘Kill somebody! Shoot ’em in the head!‘ The blood pours out. Isn’t that wonderful? I hate it. I HATE IT! And I feel sad for all the youth that has to be coerced into that thing. They feel sick and sorry because they have nothing to go to. I’m not saying that we’re super-human. We just are terrific people. We’re terrific. We are sensational. We’re better than all those guys that steal from their corporations, that stand up and say, ‘We’re gonna rip off [everybody].’ I don’t care. It’s sick! I’m tired of that nonsense. I really feel more for the young people in this world. I really believe in them. I think that they’re terrific, and yet they have nobody to show them the way. And they’re a bunch of sheep. I’m telling you that. They go, ‘Here. No, wait. That’s no good. Oh, OK. We’ll go here. No, wait. That’s no good. But this is wonderful! Oh, OK. We’ll go here.’ Those people are floundering and walking around with nothing in their lives, simply because they are not led by anybody of any responsibility. I don’t want to lead anybody. He’ll lead. I’ll lead. We’ll all lead, and we’ll go and we’ll try and take a chance and express ourselves, and hope that somebody will recognize that expression. I don’t care about CBS, NBC, ABC. Television sucks.”

The Quotations

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Inescapable is an American movie about a Canadian Banker who is actually an ex-Syrian Intelligence Officer convicted in absentia by Damascus. Confused? Good. You should be. That’s exactly the way Ruba Nadda intended it. Keep in mind, Nadda is dealing with age-old tendencies here (i.e., the foolhardy notion of trying to outrun one’s past). As such, she really has no other alternative but to present her subject matter in a fresh, new-angled way.

To Nadda’s credit, that is precisely where Inescapable succeeds.

You’ve got spies and you’ve got intrigue. You’ve got edge lighting and track shots. You’ve got blood, and you’ve got water. You’ve got byzantine bureaucracy, reining down upon them both. You’ve got burkas and you’ve got brandy. You’ve got back-door border jumping, granted in exchange for belts of Scotch. You’ve got a Sudanese lead with Mediterranean eyes, and an entire thematic palate that’s indicative of both. You’ve got Josh Jackson, A.D.-Fringe, and Marisa Tomei, aging nicely. You’ve got all of that and more, weaved intricately into an taut, well-thought-out story. The plotholes are subtle; the miscues are slight. Alexander Siddig kicks much ass. The end.

(Inescapable arrives in limited release this coming Friday, February 22nd.)  Continue reading →

1. To work at night
2. If one cannot gain what one wants in one night, to try again the next night
3. To love one’s coworkers just as thieves love each other
4. To be willing to risk one’s life even for a little thing
5. Not to attach too much value to things even though one has risked one’s life for them
6. To withstand all kinds of beatings and tortures but to remain what you are, and
7. To believe that your work is worthwhile and not be willing to change it.

The 1990s are history. And by history, I mean History. Modern economists are now studying the trends, modern legislators are revisiting the wrongs, and modern pundits are all busy, reframing backward contexts. The 1990s have officially reached that awkward 20-year mark at which old fads become new again … perhaps ironically, at first, before spiraling out onto big-budget billboards all across this sprawling land of ours.

Such is the case with D.A. Pennebaker’s The War Room – a no-frills docu-drama which follows the now-legendary 1992 presidential campaign from New Hampshire through November. The beauty of The War Room is that it is told from the perspective of those working on Governor Bill Clinton’s campaign. George Stephanopoulos plays the role of wide-eyed wiz kid, in stark-yet-stunning contrast to Jimmy Carville’s wicked sage. The ongoing chemistry between these two provides a major facet of the movie’s charm – a necessary component, to be sure, given Pennebaker’s age-old insistence upon allowing every story to unravel for itself.

Casual film buffs will remember Pennebaker as the daring young maverick who chronicled Bob Dylan via the 1967 documentary Dont Look Back. Not a whole lot has changed about Pennebaker’s approach over the years. The man remains a docu-purist, if not a wholly dated reminder of just how much the surging genre has evolved.

To watch a Pennebaker film today is to feel as if there’s something missing. Modern audiences have been conditioned to expect color commentary, spliced-in footage, A-list interviews, dramatic reenactments, perhaps even the filmmaker himself, playing the horribly miscast role of foil. But the reality is, those are all new-fangled trends, very much still a part of the zeitgeist. The War Room, on the other hand, is now 20 years old, which means it’s more than likely high time for budding young filmmakers – if not political organizers – to revisit it … perhaps ironically, at first, before spiraling out onto big-budget billboards all across this sprawling land of ours.

(The War Room is currently available as part of Hulu’s Criterion Collection.)  Continue reading →

“When you go there to Washington, what you do as President is a function of about four things. Number one, believe it or not, most Presidents do try to keep their promises. President Bush, most of the things he did that people thought contradicted the compassionate-conservative label, he actually talked about [those things] very specifically in the campaign. It’s just that a lot of people didn’t listen. But most people actually try to do what they say they’re going to do … Then they have to deal with the incoming fire. Nobody asked President Bush how he stood on Katrina or 9/11 because no one knew it would happen. That happens to every President. And then you have to deal with the Congress, and the things that may come up that they care about, because if you don’t deal with what other people care about, then they have no incentive to deal with what you care about. But the fourth thing – that nobody thinks about – has to do with how you organize The White House.”